


When is it enough?

by MystikSpiral



Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bad Prep, Choking, Cussing, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Earth-1610, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Friends With Benefits, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Masturbation, Porn Watching, Porn With Plot, Ultimates - Freeform, a lot of it lol, eventually, i saw a prompt and i couldnt stop, mentions of smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-04-24 06:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19168057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MystikSpiral/pseuds/MystikSpiral
Summary: Steve’s sex life isn’t fulfilling. Mainly because it doesn’t exist. Steve doesn’t do one night stands because he doesn’t like night clubs, or bars, or anywhere generally too loud. The few times Tony had managed to get him out, there’s been the occasional times where he got ‘lucky’. A woman pressing up against him, and Steve going with his instincts. Even after the woman sleeps or tries to sneak her way out, he’s still thinking it's not enough. He resorts to masturbation more often than not. He likes delving into those dark parts when it's late-- for some reason, the night makes him feel less filthy about his thoughts. Especially the people who pop up in them. Because while Tony introduces him to different women, countless beautiful women that he would’ve jumped at the chance to sleep with before the ice, Steve’s only watching Tony.---Or the fic where Steve is trying sate some dark part of himself and takes it out on Tony who is willing to take it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lol so I havent written any fic in years but of course this is what I come back with. Based off of a prompt that im gonna link once I can find it again. This first chapter doesn't go into the bad bdsm etiquette but just as a warning this chapter is as tame as its gonna get. Beta'd by Morphia-writes!
> 
> Ayeeee this is still be updated! Took a stevetony/writing break but I’m back in hell lads!

Steve’s life is..fulfilling. Or at least he finds himself trying to fill it. A balance between not enough and too much to handle. The modern day falls under too much, the missions he takes where he’s painfully aware of the distance between him and his teammates falls under that umbrella too. The day to day of getting up when he doesn’t work, keeping himself preoccupied falls under both not enough and too much. Too much alone time, not enough stimuli, too much time to think, not enough distractions. Certain things that fall under his control-- he can open up a good book to distract himself. To take his mind away by reading something as outdated as he is. Sadly, he can’t force his teammates to open up to him or to at least help close the gap a little. He knows its partially his fault. It always is when it comes to building any foundation for a relationship. It’s why he and Jan couldn’t work, it's why he and Sharon didn’t either.

Steve’s life is fulfilling in his own sensible way of keeping things on the back burner until he can organize it mentally. He saves the day, and hopes the rest of it spent alone goes by quickly so he can distract himself by saving it again. He says it's enough, and it should be. But there's something else. Something on that back burner that boils over every once in a while. Something that glaringly falls under not enough that reaches the darkest recesses of his mind late at night. Something he feels dirty about it, even mid way through choked gasps and rustling underneath the covers-- all that reminds him of what it truly means to feel something is not enough.

Steve’s sex life isn’t fulfilling. Mainly because it doesn’t exist. Steve doesn’t do one night stands because he doesn’t like night clubs, or bars, or anywhere generally too loud. The few times Tony had managed to get him out, there’s been the occasional times where he got ‘lucky’. A woman pressing up against him, and Steve going with his instincts. Even after the woman sleeps or tries to sneak her way out, he’s still thinking it's not enough. He resorts to masturbation more often than not. He likes delving into those dark parts when it's late-- for some reason, the night makes him feel less filthy about his thoughts. Especially the people who pop up in them. Because while Tony introduces him to different women, countless beautiful women that he would’ve jumped at the chance to sleep with before the ice, Steve’s only watching Tony.

The man has nonchalantly offered, one drunk night when Steve wasn’t particularly up for Tony’s showcasing of ladies. He sipped on a drink that did nothing, out of habit of making others feel comfortable. He’d stepped on the balcony for some fresh air, needing a break from the madness inside.

“You’re your own brand of distant today,” Tony said while leaning over next to him, lighting up a cigarette because he must have been feeling a pretty good buzz. Steve watched as his lips wrapped around the filter of the cigarette, so pink and full and had probably been in places they shouldn’t be. Watching Tony smoke always stirred something in him. Maybe because there’s always an honest conversation at the tail end of that, or because of how Tony visibly relaxes, or just the comfort of smoke that reminds him of his past life. The brunet doesn’t do it often, but when he does, the hypnotic tendrils of smoke don’t distract from how good the sight of Tony’s lips wrapped around something is.

Steve’s eyes darted between Tony’s lips and his eyes, he then settled on the night sky. Although distorted and tinted orange from light pollution, it was still a beautiful. “Just not in the mood today, Stark.” It was more of a grumble than a clear sentence.

“Why’d you come out?”

Fair question, he didn’t have to join him, and Tony is never exactly making him. “Looking for something different I suppose.” It was meant to be a thought, but the words fell from his lips before his brain caught up to him .

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony raise a brow inquisitively. Shit.

“Different? Not modelish… or not a woman?”

Steve coughed a bit, the mixed drink hitting his windpipe when Tony just so happened to say ‘not a woman,’ “I didn’t say that, I meant different, okay-- just…nevermind.”

“Don’t get all defensive,” Tony said while raising his hands in mock surrender, a grin now plastered on his face. “Just looking out for a pal. Women get boring for me at times, hell people in general, sometimes you just need to feel something different. Something more.”

Steve looked at Tony briefly, then cast his eyes elsewhere, he could feel his throat getting dry despite his fruity drink. “Yeah,” he said.

Tony took a drag from his cigarette. “I could help with that you know…the different thing. Doesn’t have to be anything serious.”

And then Steve’s mouth had turned into the Sahara, he sipped his drink again, hoping to quench it, but it wasn't working. “St-Tony…are you--”

“Offering my services? For a limited time only. But look, don’t make a big deal about it. You just seemed tense and antsy. You always are, but you know what I mean.”

Steve hasn’t said anything at this point, he didn’t know if this damned him more but he didn’t know what to say. He’d wanted to see how far he could go to break Tony for so long, that he didn’t know what to do with this. Why now? What had he noticed? More importantly, why couldn’t he bring himself to say yes?

“Forget I asked, Steve.” Was the last time Tony had mentioned it, before walking off and never speaking about it again.

The problem is, Steve’s been thinking about his offer for a month now, and it’s turned unhealthy. Like feeling guilty when he has to make a passing glance at Tony unhealthy.

It’s late again, the feeling of not enough ebbing through him. Sometimes he needs a jump start, and unfortunately, porn falls into that category. Things…things that are more extreme than he’d like to admit. Bondage and submission really do it for him these days when thinks of Tony. He manages to come across a thumbnail of a brunet in a stockade. Head and arms trapped in a device that makes it so the man has no choice but to bend over and take it. An object, a dumpster for Steve to let out his frustrations. Steve trails his hands down to his sweats, feeling himself get excited already from the thumbnail alone.

He clicks. It takes a second to load but when it does, the action is already on-going. The brunet male groaning and trying to push back on the other's cock, but having no choice but to be still and take whatever is given. Steve wants it, he craves it, he needs that form of control and Tony had offered, in a sense.

Steve pulls out his cock and closes his eyes. He can see Tony locked in this device, and mouthy. So damn talkative all the time, until Steve stuffs his fat dick into his hole. The slow stretch would be too much. “H-Hurts--” he can see Tony whining and Steve gives a satisfied grin because good. He wants it to hurt. He wouldn’t listen, just press all the way to the hilt and groan when the tight heat envelopes his cock.

The imagery of him breaching Tony has him pumping faster, dropping his phone to fondle his balls while the brunet carries on moaning in the video. It’s not Tony’s voice, but he imagines he’d be just as whiny. He’d pull Tony’s cheeks apart just to watch his dick go in and cause more discomfort and then he’d pound relentlessly. Tony’s vocal, in his head, he can imagine the brunet moaning as if each sound was being pushed out of him. He’d try to wiggle his ass back, but Steve would have his hips still. Nails biting into his hip bones, bruising, he hopes. Jack hammering at an angle so the head of his cock mashed against smaller ones prostate. He’d grab his hair to force himself deeper, because Tony is an object, an object to milk Steve’s cock and do what he says when he says it.

Steve’s stroking himself faster now, heaving and letting out low growls as he tugs on his balls and aggressively fists the base. “Take it, bitch,” he says to himself, imagining he’s uttering those words to Tony as he begs for it, screams for it, says Steve’s name like a fucking prayer. Even with all the fantasy, it’s not enough. He needs the real thing to fuck, to use, to break. Watch his eyes roll back, watch him tear up when it’s too much. Fuck, just the mental image of Tony crying on his cock has him coming faster than he thought. He lets out a surprised gasp when he does so. _Fuck, fuck, fuck--_

An annoying ring from his phone interrupts the moaning and slapping of skin from the video. It also makes the haze of his orgasm quickly dissipate. Who the hell-- “Hello?” His voice is a bit gravely from his previous activity.

“Were you asleep?” Of course it’s Tony.

“Not exactly.” He pauses for a moment to balance his phone between his neck and ear and begins wiping the semen off of his hand. “Do you need anything?”

“Yeah, briefing in a half hour,”

Ugh, he’s actually worn out. “Great,” he sarcastically replies

“See you then, darling.”

Steve hangs up with a grunt.

He wishes Tony wouldn’t call him that. He pulls himself up and gets dressed. Head still foggy from his session that still has something whispering in the back of his head, not enough.

It’s not enough.

The briefing is just that, brief. Schematics on their next upcoming mission. Another perfect distraction for Steve. He keeps avoiding eye contact with Tony, feeling guilt ebb at him a bit, but also not feeling guilty at all. Still, being conflicted alone makes him want to avoid all contact. Tony looks crisp as usual, although the bags underneath his eyes tell a different story. After the meeting Steve makes his way towards the door, the mission doesn’t start for another few days so he, again, has time to kill.

“Wait up,” he hears called from behind him. Steve turns and waits for Tony to catch up. “Any plans tonight?”

“No,” Steve says shortly.

“Good, you should come by my place--” Steve opens his mouth to protest and Tony interrupts “--not for a party just to hang out. You’re such a recluse.”

Steve rolls his eyes, and then thinks about being alone with Tony briefly. “Fine, what time?” He doesn’t even know why he's saying yes. He knows nothing is going to happen, but for some reason he wanted to see if there’s a possibility it could.

Tony looks just as shocked as Steve feels. “Oh--I honestly didn’t expect you to say yes. How about eight?”

Steve presses the down button for the elevator. “Eight it is.” They both step on the elevator and Tony presses the button to close it. A beat of silence goes by, and Tony speaks “Look, the other day when I--”

“It’s alright, Tony.” He doesn’t want to hear how it was a mistake. He doesn’t want to hear any of that backtracking right now. It wasn’t an accident, and they both know it. Tony doesn’t say anything else, and Steve doesn’t bother to, either. Both lost in their own thoughts. Once the elevator dings Steve’s about to step off until Tony grabs his wrist, Steve raises a brow and looks back quizzically.

“Anything I should pick up?”

Steve thinks for a minute while holding the elevator door open. “No, just make sure you’re there.”

Tony grins that charismatic toothy grin. “I’ll try and remember that darling. See you at eight.”

With that they head their separate ways. Steve mulling over his thoughts the entire ride home, wondering how he would ask. If he can still ask. Tony brought it up, and he’s obviously still thinking about it. Steve chews on his bottom lip, contemplating how and when he should bring it up--because not doing it is no longer an option. He can no longer ignore the shroud of darkness that grips him, he needs release. And Tony is going to give it to him.

Steve's already gone through the motions of jerking off before the briefing, but contemplates if he should try again before seeing Tony. He should probably have a clear head, but figures he’ll be alright. He's at Tony’s on time, greeted with a still business-causal brunet holding a tumbler of some booze. “Punctual as usual,” Tony says before walking off to the living room area. Steve strips his jacket, hangs it up, and sits on the couch, leading Tony to sit on the opposite end.

“So…what exactly did you have planned?” Steve asks, feeling himself a bit fidgety with the only important subject on his mind.

“To be honest…not exactly sure. I have some movies we can watch, but I thought you’d want some company.”

“Company,” Steve repeats. His eyes are fixed on the television, not exactly paying attention.

“Mhmm, company,” Tony repeats again. Steve can hear the rattling of the ice in his glass.

Steve takes a deep breath. Well this is awkward. Or maybe he’s the awkward one. He can’t exactly tell. This isn’t the first time Tony’s just invited him over for this reason, needing to get Steve out of his mundane routine. However, he can’t focus on small talk or even the occasional deep talks they have. Hell he doesn’t even want to look at Tony, in fear of those thoughts invading his mind, encroaching on his self control. It's eating away at him, but he doesn’t know what to--

“Something on your mind?”

“Uh…no. I mean yeah…I mean no.” Way to go Steve.

“Well I can tell there's nothing wrong based on that eloquent answer. Oh, and you haven’t looked me in the eye since you’ve arrived.”

Steve falters a bit, and shifts himself so he’s looking at Tony a bit more. “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“Well it is.”

“Is this about what happened that night?”

Steve clears his throat. “What night?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Steve. It’s not a cute look on you.”

“Fine, yeah its about that.” Steve’s fumbling with his fingers a lot more now, and Tony’s leg seems to be jumping in place a mile a minute. They’re both nervous.

Tony’s silent for a moment, then. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, can we just move on? It won’t happen again,” he says, sounding almost desperate. As if there’s something else to lose besides the overt awkwardness.

“That’s just it Tony…I didn’t feel uncomfortable. Awkward but not uncomfortable. Actually I kind of wanted to ask more about what you meant.”

Steve wishes he could take a picture of Tony’s face right now. He resists the urge to chuckle from how purely taken aback he looks. Sputtering a bit, Tony speaks. “Did you hit your head?”

The corners of Steve’s lips upturn into a smirk. “Been asking myself the same thing lately.”

The brunet shakes his head a bit, as if trying to come to grips with Steve’s curiosity. “Tony if you don’t--”

“No!--I mean no, Steve that's-- it's fine. So you want this?”

“What’s ‘this’?”

“Sex with no attachments, an exploration of some things…kinks.” The last part is said with a mischievous grin, which makes Steve scoff a bit.

“Yeah…but like you said, nothing serious, alright?” He means it too, he has no interest in Tony in that way and he doubts he ever would. He just could use a helping hand besides his own in the bedroom. And for some reason, he wants Tony on the receiving end. Steve’s not in the business of propositioning any man for sex, but Tony’s not just any man.

“Aye, aye Cap’n.”

Christ Tony.

“Any other ground rules?”

He should probably establish a safe word, but he's impatient and can’t see things heading into that territory right now anyways. Steve hums for a second. “We’ll get into ‘kinks’ another time. That’s an entirely different discussion. Right now--” Steve gets up from his seat, he can feel his body thrumming with excitement at the way those crisp blue eyes peer up at him almost innocently.

“Right now just do what I say,” he finishes by grabbing a patch of hair in the back of Tony's head and pulling him up. Tony gasps but leans into it, his lips finding Steve’s. The bigger man snakes a hand around Tony's waist, thrusting his tongue into his mouth. Already he can feel the need to take Tony bubbling up on the surface, the shroud closing in on his lust addled brain.

Tony moans into the kiss, little gasps leaving him when Steve pulls his bottom lip with his teeth. Their tongues lapping against each other's and finding an easy rhythm, which gets more aggressive when Steve’s hands wander to Tony’s (way too) perky backside and gropes there. Fuck, that feels nice. It’s incentive for the brunet to kiss rougher, but Steve’s in control here. He kisses back just as hard, making Tony buck a bit and pull away, briefly whispering a soft “fuck,” and then delving in again. They kiss for another minute, mapping out each others mouths before Tony says “I have a bed, several actually.”

“Well pick one, because it's the only decision you’ll get to make tonight.” The words are whispered next to Tony’s ear, low and dark. Tony visibly shivers, then looks up in awe, as if he didn’t know Steve had it in him. Frankly speaking, they know nothing of each other besides the small moments they share. Who knows, Tony might surprise him tonight, too.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Take my dick out, suck it until I say stop.”
> 
> God, they should probably establish rules of some sort, but he doesn’t want to care about someone else's well being right now. Maybe part of the reason why he wants Tony to begin with is because he’s aware of his lack of self care. Even if it becomes too much, Tony won’t tell him to stop, the recognition of his own boundaries being an afterthought. Steve shouldn’t want that, he shouldn’t enable the brunet's staggeringly unhealthy behaviors and habits, but again, he doesn’t want to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear updates will be quicker, I have a laptop now so I can write whenever I want yay!! As always this isn't for the faint of heart. Although this chapter isn't too heavy it's still dealing with harmful themes such as not explicitly getting consent for dangerous activities. More tags are coming as I think of more crap lol. Beta'd by Morphia-writes!

 

Tony leads Steve to one of the many rooms in his penthouse. He’s curious if it’s Tony’s actual bedroom or a room he uses for his romps. He doesn’t ask, he only sits on the bed and watches as Tony unbuttons his shirt slowly. Steve eyes the planes of his chest, the light dusting of dark hair that trails down his abs and to his groin. Tony’s about to remove his belt until Steve halts his wrist. He grabs abruptly and meets blue eyes obstructed by dark lashes-- the wanting look Steve often jerks off to.

“On your knees.” Steve says simply.

Tony complies, although his movements are slow. He’s not sure if it's calculated, but those blue eyes never leave his. Steve’s been half hard ever since Tony’s given him the okay to screw him into next week, but when Tony’s on his knees it immediately gets him fully erect. The fact that Tony also waits for further instruction causes a spike of arousal in the blond.

“Take my dick out, suck it until I say stop.”

God, they should probably establish rules of some sort, but he doesn’t want to care about someone else's well being right now. Maybe part of the reason why he wants Tony to begin with is because he’s aware of his lack of self care. Even if it becomes too much, Tony won’t tell him to stop, the recognition of his own boundaries being an afterthought. Steve shouldn’t want that, he shouldn’t enable the brunet's staggeringly unhealthy behaviors and habits, but again, he doesn’t want to care.

“Fuck..” Steve exhales when Tony starts stroking the base of his cock. Tony’s licking his lips as if he's being presented with a treat.

“How’d you know I’m a size queen?” Tony quips.

Steve leans back, rubbing his thumb along Tony’s bottom lip. “You talk too much.” With that he grips brunet strands and stuffs his cock into that inviting mouth. Steve lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes briefly,  _ oh fuck yeah _ he thinks. It’s been too long.

Tony’s pace starts fast. Steve can feel his soft tongue flattening and licking the underside of his cock while the head presses firmly against the back of his throat. Steve still has Tony’s hair threaded through his fingers in a tight grip, producing whimpers from the other. He forces him to take more, and Tony gags a bit, but for some reason he’s expecting more resistance. Fuck he can see the outline of his cock down Tony’s throat.

“Holy shit..” Leaves Steve’s mouth in a low groan, jesus fucking christ he’s becoming light headed. And then Tony’s tongue is darting out again to lick at his balls-- how the fuck is he doing this? Steve groans again as his head flies back and eyes screw shut. He can feel drool pooling at the base of his dick and soaking his balls.

“You filthy fucking slut,” tumbles out of Steve’s mouth in a growl, he’s almost embarrassed by his mouth and reactions. Almost. He’s too far gone. He grips Tony’s hair harder earning him a whimper and choked sounds that comes off more like a gurgle. Steve thrusts his hips upwards, not allowing him a breath or enough time to gain his own composure. The familiar feeling of an orgasm is creeping, the pressure slowly rising. He wants to finish in Tony’s ass, but hes unable to stop his hips from colliding with Tony’s face, his balls hitting his chin, his dick lodged down his throat. His hands are shaking and his toes are beginning to curl,  _ oh fuck  _ he can hear himself,  _ take it you fuckin bitch _ \-- he can’t stop himself from babbling filth.

It takes all of his self control to actually pull Tony off completely. Tony’s coughing and panting raggedly, clearing his throat repeatedly, rubbing his neck gently. Steve’s panting himself, but watches Tony. He likes how disheveled he looks, the tears threatening to spill, drool on his chin. Fuck, he should always look this way. Steve’s still painfully hard, and from the looks of it Tony’s there as well.

“Any lube?” Steve asks

Tony clears his throat once more “Yeah, hold on,” he says. He’s expecting Tony to mention how rough he was, how unforgiving his words were, how he's never seen this side of Steve until today-- anything snarky at all and in character. Tony only opens the drawer to the night stand and grabs lubrication. Maybe this is in character for Tony. Like he's mentioned before, they barely know anything about each other except for what they present. Public masks they wear even in the company of each other. Or maybe Tony doesn’t want to ruin the moment. None of it really matters when it comes down to it.

Steve gets up and finally removes his pants, belt clicking as he does so. “Get on the bed, on your back.” He says while stroking his erection. Tony follows direction, very obedient when he wants to be. He doesn’t even make his way to take off his own pants, very obedient.

Steve removes his own shirt before getting onto the bed, he spots Tony licking over his lips once more-- he's just as excited as Steve. He unbuttons Tony's pants before removing them, followed by his boxers to reveal the hardness between his legs-- everything closely trimmed. Muscle toned thighs with a thin layer of dark hair, every part of him naturally tan. Steve wants to taste him, but decides to hold off for another night. Right now he needs a hole.

Steve takes the lubrication and coats a single finger, shifting Tony to his side while lifting up one of his legs over his shoulder. He presses a single finger in and it earns him a soft groan. Steve leans in, a mock display of affection as he kisses Tony’s cheek then whispers next to his ear “This is your prep Tony.” Tony’s eyes pop open, a flash of fear in his eyes that has Steve’s cock leaking at this point. He, however, doesn’t protest.

He knows he could, but he doesn’t.

Steve keeps the finger shallowly entering the tight ring of muscle, feeling Tony slowly relax to the intrusion. His breathing comes in short gasps, then he bites his bottom lip and looks up at Steve, letting out a hum of approval. Their eyes are locked as Steve continues, tempted to add a second finger but wanting Tony to feel the pain when he breaches. He doesn’t confront the part of his brain that whispers that he wants to hurt Tony. He’s not ready to deal with that yet.

A deft forefinger and thumb tug at one of Tony’s nipples, which has him arching his back and letting out an  _ “Ohh” _ with his eyelashes fluttering. Steve smirks and pushes his finger in further and gets another lovely reaction. Tony’s trying to keep eye contact but he’s failing, head lolling to the side. Steve pulls his finger out completely and a little impatiently. He’s been waiting for this part and couldn’t watch Tony writhe and whimper without really giving him something to cry about.

He takes the lubrication and squeezes a generous amount onto his palm, stroking himself languidly and keeping an eye on the man laid out in front of him. Steve smirks. Hes going to ruin him. Tony looks nervous, and he should be, Steve’s cock is thick and long, and Tony’s not nearly prepped enough. Yet, no protest.

Perfect.

Steve braces himself with one hand around the leg on his shoulder, and the other guiding his cock to Tony’s entrance. The head alone has Tony crying out in obvious pain, “Ah!-- _ God  _ Steve--” he won’t say it hurts or for Steve to slow down. Sick fuck. He pushes in more and groans, so fucking tight so unbearably tight, oh christ.

Sweat is beading on Tony’s forehead. Steve knows Tony’s feeling white hot pain. The perspiration and shallow breaths, the  tightness, it all gives it away. “You gotta relax,” Steve says, and it comes out husky as he keeps pushing in and Tony lets out a loud shout.

“Fuck y-you’re so fucking big,” Tony pants out, tears brimming his brilliant blue eyes.

Steve gives an experimental thrust and earns another yelp. “Does it hurt?” Steve asks, he knows the answer, but wants to hear it.

“Y-Yeah-- fuck yeah it hurts.”

“Good.” Is the last thing Steve says before he starts thrusting. His cock as hard as steel now from this unique situation. The fact that Tony can’t will himself to say he needs more prep, the fact that he's seemingly got harder from Steve getting off on his pain, cock twitching, the tip an angry red. There’s something Tony is getting out of this too, and for some reason that motivates Steve to give a particularly rough thrust, then again, and again fuck Tony’s ass felt fantastic. Velvety walls encased his cock, milking him, massaging him -- so hot-- clenching up ever so often. All his brain could do is tell him to keep driving forward into the tight heat, that Tony isn’t one of those one night stands that he feels the need to be delicate with.

Tony can take it.

Tony’s heavy pants and sharp breaths soon turn into groans and occasional curses. Steve grabs the sides of his hips, fingers digging into firm globes of flesh as he manages to set Tony’s leg from his shoulder, and back on the bed. He has his hips suspended as he switches the angle, continuing his punishing thrusts.

“Jesus fucking christ!” Tony shouts, and for some reason him saying the lord's name in vain sounds worse coming from his mouth. Still, when his voice cracks, Steve can feel his own dick throb. He knows he’s hit something good and keeps pushing and pulling Tony’s hips forward and backwards like a pendulum. With his strength, it’s easy to do, while Tony's weight rest on his back, his fingers wound up in the sheets, gripping tightly, taught like a string on a bow as his face contorts, then settles into what Steve can only describe as blissful, or maybe fucked out, he's not sure, but he has to bet Tony doesn’t drool for just anyone.

Steve’s lost himself, he’s drinking everything in as if he won’t have a chance to do this again. There’s no way in hell there won’t be a next time. He can feel his frustrations leaving him, with each slapping of skin and Tony’s babbling of his name, the “not enough” that plays like a broken record fades and becomes more of a faint whisper, not the full out yelling that can take place in his head when he’s coming on his fist for the third time that day. And although it isn’t completely gone, although he knows it’ll take more to silence it, to stomp out even the smallest of hushes and utterances, this is so much better than he was expecting. He’s tingling everywhere, his lower back, his limbs, his face, his fucking dick. Everywhere feels so good and he’s lost in it. Tony is perfect, the perfect object that’s going to drain him dry.

“So fucking full,” he hears at a certain point, his voice trembles and shakes.  _ Gonna keep you full, all the time Tony-- sluts like you need to be full always.  _ Again, he’s not sure if his thoughts are loud or if he’s saying this shit out loud. Tony says “Fuck yeah, fuck yeah keep me full.” His response indicates that Steve foul mouthed Rogers can’t keep himself wholesome when he’s getting any half decent ass. Who is he kidding? This is more than decent, this is ass he needs a second third or fourth run at, an ass he’d sacrifice his precious lack of patience to, attached to someone who grates his nerves most of the time. Tony’s going to drive him insane, and he’s okay with that, for an ass like this he doesn’t fucking care.

“Gonna make me come..” Tony moans, he’s not stroking his cock, however, and just the thought of him coming without being touched makes Steve almost blow his load too early. Fuck he needs to calm down. He has to, because he knows once this train gets going it’ll be impossible to stop. It’ll only get more depraved from here, and if Tony saying he’s going to come untouched makes him release too fast, when Tony’s getting slapped or spit on he’ll fucking bust in minutes. Steve stills his hips, and lets out a shaky “oh fuck…”  _ calm the fuck down Rogers.  _ He can feel the pressure that’s too great in his balls but he’s stubborn.

“Don’t you dare come yet, you come when I say so is that clear?” He’s not sure how he gets the sentence out in one go. The fact that it comes out at all is astonishing as well. Tony’s whimpers haven’t stopped, his eyes are brimmed with tears and he only nods. The tears do something to him, he sits Tony’s waist down onto the bed and one thumb reaches out to catch one. The thumb then travels down to the length of his neck, around his adams apple and then his entire hand closes around Tony’s throat. Tony moans out “Yes” as if Steve’s finally giving him what he wants.

Then he’s thrusting again, harder, using some of the strength he reserves for battles that are just as adrenaline inducing. He can hear himself letting out animalistic grunts, his grip tightening around Tony’s slender throat that fits perfectly in Steve’s fingers. He’s pile driving fast and the room is filled with a continuous  _ slap slap slap  _ that echoes and bounces off the walls. Inbetwen the slaps are Tony’s hoarse cries, some break into sobs but he’s pleading for Steve not to stop as best as he can. Steve’s not sure whose going to lose it first but Steve finds himself grunting out “fuck, come, c'mon stark,” because his own resolve is slipping. He can feel Tony’s pulse underneath his finger tips. He grips a little harder and that seems to do it for him, Tony’s head tipped back and choked gasps leave him, his eyes and blown open as if he's in shock, his mouth formed into an ‘O’ as he tries to let out some noise, any noise that Steve’s cutting off. He spills between them on parts of both their stomachs. 

Steve isn’t far behind, the imagery is just too good for him to hold back. His thrust are uneven as he finally gets his release. It’s almost frustratingly painful from how much he feels like he’s getting every last drop pumped from his balls. He briefly wonders how he’d ever be able to come like this again-- or at all. It makes him light headed, his grip is dangerous on Tony’s throat now, but he can’t help himself from moving erratically into Tony's now gaping hole. Even after he comes he’s still so hard, and he’s almost laughing from how he just can’t stop right now. It feels too fucking good, and he’s not sure if he’ll ever feel this good again. Nonsense, he reminds himself, Tony’s opened this door and there’s no way to shut it now.

He eventually stops when his cock begins to soften, his grip grows weaker and Tony’s coughing a bit, which causes him to unknowingly clench around Steve again. He lets out a soft groan and pulls out, looking down to see Tony’s hole raw and stretched out, spilling out his thick semen as he heaves in and out. Steve feels so satisfied, he needs to lay back and revel in this for a moment. Everything right now is perfect.

“Kinky bastard, who would’ve thought...” Of course Tony has to open his mouth. He hears the familiar clicking of a lighter and the smell of nicotine. It lulls his eyes closed again, his brain feels as if it’s rebooting-- only having time to process everything when he’s back online. It’s even nicer when he hears Tony cough again, throat sounds raw as if he’s still a bit choked.

So satisfying.

It’s a few moments before he’s up, letting out a quiet yawn as he leaves the bed to turn on the shower. Before he gets there he takes in Tony, who seems to be somewhere else, cigarette perched between his fingers and eyes glazed over. “I should thank you…” Steve says, and stalks over. Tony seems to perk up at his voice. He looks up at Steve and grins closed lip.

“That’s the closest to a thank you I’ve ever gotten from you. But there’s no need, we both agreed to this.” Again with the ambiguous ‘this’. He knows what ‘this’ is but Steve went off and will continue to go off the deep end. The fact that Tony is okay with this…well..

“What are you getting out of this?” Steve asks, he doesn’t know why, he doesn’t even know why he cares or should pretend he does.

Tony opens his mouth then closes it. He takes another lungful of smoke then exhales. “Does it matter, darling?” He’s reading Steve’s thoughts, as if he knows what to say to quell Steve’s curiosity, because he doesn’t know if he wants the answer, and Tony reads him like a fucking book. Steve leans into Tony, swiping the cigarette from Tony and inhaling himself. He doesn’t get anything from it, something vaguely buzzy but it fades into nothingness. The oral gesture feels nice though, he can see the appeal. He hands it back, however, and Tony’s gaping like a fish.

“I just want to make sure you know where this can lead.”

“Afraid I can’t keep up?”

Steve smirks, always a challenge to win with him. “Let’s hope so.” He says before jumping into the shower. He rests his head against the tiles, letting the hot water roll over his now relaxed and worn muscles. Gently he closes his eyes, a smile briefly making an appearance on his face. He could work with this.

Steve’s not one to stay the night in these situations, Tony leaves it open ended on whether or not he wants him to stay, but says nothing once he leaves. Matter of fact, he doesn’t say much when Steve gets out of the shower and gets dressed. He seems consumed by his own thoughts for the rest of the night, and Steve takes it as an opportunity to make a smooth exit.

He takes the train home, back to his modest apartment. It’s now bordering on midnight. He falls back on his bed, the events from earlier still playing in the back of his mind, but more focused on what places deliver take out this late because he’s starving. He’s also exhausted but his stomach seems to be winning this fight. After a minute of listening to his stomach growl incessantly, he drags himself out of bed and calls up a late night chinese place that has dumplings he could eat fifty of in one sitting. While he waits he has something on the television he’s not entirely invested in, he’s still thinking about the sex he’s had and what should happen next.

What other ways can he push Tony Stark? What things were too soon and with all that being said, should they seriously talk about safe words or should he keep the momentum of surprising Tony to it’s dangerous extreme? All questions kept floating there, tangible heavy that Steve chooses to ignore or weigh if it’s important to care  _ right now.  _ Tony is supposed to be the thing that doesn’t make him think too hard, and to be fair he said himself it doesn’t matter in his own facetious Stark way.

His thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door,  delivery guy, he assumes. He grabs his wallet and pays, making sure to leave a tip. As soon as he digs into his food his concentration falls back onto the television for now. He has another two days until a team mission. Maybe he’ll see Tony beforehand and figure it out while he’s balls deep and testing the waters again. Either way he’s looking forward to seeing how far he can bend Tony until he snaps. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned~

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, updates will (hopefully) be weekly.


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